True Love
by marie6498
Summary: Parents killed by the Volturi at a young age, Bella's spent her youth chaperoned around the globe by a vampire-but she doesn't have much time left till Aro forces her to become one. What happens when she gets to Forks and falls for someone unexpected? R/B
1. Chapter 1

**True Love-Chp. 1-Preface**

**-This is my first fic, so I hope it turns out all right. Femmeslash, a little AU, I guess. Bella/Rosalie, eventually. The first chapter is really short, but...just testing the water out here. Anyways, thanks!**

He carried her bags in for her.

"Oh, this is great! I love it!"

"I'm glad, Bella." He raised his eyebrows, like he always did just before telling a joke. "Because the real estate market isn't exactly booming in Forks, Washington." She stared at him for a couple seconds.

"That joke was terrible."

"You just don't know greatness when you see it."

"Oh, come off it, Michael."

"As you wish." And with that he was gone, probably putting the bags upstairs. When she blinked, he was back again. "Not exactly the Ritz, but I suppose it will do."

"You'll only have to stand it for a year," she muttered, downcast.

"Let's not talk of that."

"As you wish," she repeated, brightening up a bit, and running upstairs. She tripped on the third step up (it was crooked, she insisted), but Michael caught her, as he always did.

Isabella Swan had arrived in Forks. She had been born there, and wanted to spend her last year of high school there. She supposed it merited the title of home more than any other location she had lived in for the past seventeen years, though it was a imperfect, unfamiliar kind of home, full of memories she wasn't sure she wanted to reacquaint herself with. School started tomorrow. She wasn't sure she was ready for Forks High. But then again, she never felt ready, she thought, paging through a novel. She noticed with amusement she had just read the same paragraph three times without catching any of it. A knock was heard, her door swung open.

"Would you like anything to eat, Bella?"

"No, not really in the mood. Thank you though." She paused "Then again, I think we might still have some chilled O negative in the fridge..."

"Very funny," he said, but his lips curled up into a smile. Another thing she appreciated about Michael-he laughed without fail at her jokes, even the God-awful ones. She owed him more than she could easily explain-he had been her constant companion in a transient adolescence, her one constant since she was very young. He was her friend. She knew how other's feared him-she knew what he had been before he had been forced to chaperone her all around the globe-she knew that he was a very powerful vampire. A very old vampire. She also trusted him with her life. She knew, just like she had known when she was seven, that he wouldn't hurt her.

He was beautiful, undoubtedly, all lips and eyes and cheekbones. His hair was so blonde it was nearly white, nearly as white as his skin, and it fell in loose curls around his face. He looked very young, almost innocent, until you saw the eyes. He was neither. She knew he loved her-he had made it clear. She had tried, it once-with him, to see if she more-than-cared for him, if she loved him the way he did her. She liked it but didn't like the morning after and from then on he stored away his love for her, though sometimes she would see it flash out of his eyes when he couldn't help it.

Bella finished reading her novel, and fell asleep with it clutched to her chest. She always felt a little nervous at a new school, but that night even more so then usual. She couldn't shake the feeling that something very important was going to happen the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

**Thanks so much for the reviews, guys, they're great. This is a little longer. Hope it's ok!**

The first day of school was banal, as expected. The teachers were terrible, the students uninteresting, except for maybe a pretty blonde girl named Angela who sat next to her in AP History and read Thucydides.

A boy named Mike kept on trying to hit on her, which left Bella torn between annoyance and amusement.

But she was in Forks, so she didn't mind. Forks was home. She thought that maybe later, after school, she would drop by the police station-she wondered if they still had her dad's car. A part of her wanted to visit the house where all three of them had lived-she, her mother, her father-but she knew it would be too much. She had to take small steps.

She was in the cafeteria right now, at a table with Angela, an irritating, prissy girl named Jessica, and, unfortunately, Mike. There was also an asian guy named Eric who she knew was also hitting on her, though at least he had the decency to be more subtle about it. She hoped he could take a hint.

She took a halfhearted stab at whatever that was on her plate. Next time, go for the salad bar, she thought. You can't screw up salad. Hopefully.

"Yeah, so I was like so, totally-" Jessica droned on. Bella smiled when she saw Angela reading her book under the table. "And he was just like, 'Girl, you so fine', and I went-"

"Isabella. Do you think that you could step outside with me for a moment?" Michael had tapped her arm. She nodded, ecstatic to get away, and they stepped out of the cafeteria, through the halls and out the door.

She leaned against the brick wall outside, motioning mutely for a cigarette. He pulled one out of his pocket and, making sure none of the other students were looking, rubbed his fingers together in a blur until they sparked and flamed, lighting her cigarette before blowing it out.

"God, I needed one of these. So many morons in one place..." She looked up, saw his tense expression, and placed her hand on his shoulder. "What's up, Michael? Are you alright?" He nodded, bent over and placed his lips close to her ear, whispering. She shivered slightly.

"I'm fine, but I thought I should let you know that there is a coven of vampires in the cafeteria. I'm invading your personal space like this because I don't want them to hear us." she chuckled, but inside she was worried.

She had spent ten minutes in a contained space with vampires, with a coven of vampires, no less, without even noticing them? She must be losing her touch.

"Can you take them?" Now it was his turn to laugh, and he did, loudly.

"They won't be an issue. I just wanted to let you know. We can go back in right now, if you'd like. I defer to you, as always," he paused for a moment before continuing. "It might interest you to know that they feed on animals."

"Like you?"

"I suppose, though you know I have not been-long on the wagon, as they say." She looked down.

"Thank you. I know it must be difficult for you." He smiled.

"I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to. Shall we go back in, then? I wouldn't want whatever disgusting filth they serve here to get cold..." She smiled, hit his arm, and then winced when she remembered he was harder than diamond.

"Let's."

BREAK

He loped slightly in front of her as they entered the cafeteria, and as they settled down again caught her eye, jerking his head towards a table she hadn't previously seen.

Bella considered herself fairly immune to the beauty of vampires. She had seen enough of them that it had been some years since her mind had ceased to function at first sight of one.

She had had vampires as friends. She had even slept with a couple. She liked to think that through so much time in their presence she had built up some sort of immunity. But when she looked at that table she found it a little difficult to breathe. So many golden eyes staring back at her...

There were five of them. Three males, two females.

None mated, she could tell already. There was a certain blinding adoration, a soft submission, a constant physical contact present in mated couples she didn't see here. They must be fairly young, then.

Michael had mentioned to her once that if a vampire didn't find their mate within the first couple of centuries, they were considered a lost cause. She didn't pursue the subject then, though she was curious, because it was obvious where it would lead and Bella was not ready to go there. She shook her head, returned to looking at the table. Three males, two females.

The first of the boys was hulking, massive, bigger even than Michael. His biceps strained against his shirt, one flex away from turning the t-shirt into a wife beater. His neck was probably thicker around than Bella's thigh. And yet it suited him.

He was undeniably attractive, like the others, with a surprising, delicate face.

The second boy was the same height as the first but thinner, with curly blond hair and a thousand-yard stare that looked out of place on the face of a pre-raphaelite farmhand. He was, Bella noted, a fighter, possibly of the Southern Vampire Wars. If she squinted hard, she could make out the silvery scars across his forehead, his cheeks. A particularly long one dipped down onto his collarbone before disappearing under a sweater.

He was one to watch, a threat, perhaps even more so than the first. But Bella wasn't worried. If he had been truly dangerous, Michael would have let her know.

The third boy was tall, but shorter than the other two, and wiry. He was very beautiful. His hair was an odd bronze color, and for a moment, Bella imagined running her hands through it, before dismissing the thought with a shake of her head. He was not her type.

And then it was on to the opposite side of the table, with the two females. They were all still staring at her, at Michael. She knew he wouldn't make the first move, but still, she worried, She wanted to stay in Forks. She only had a year left, God damnit, and she wanted to spend it in Forks.

She wouldn't be able to do that if a bunch of angry vampires destroyed the school cafeteria. Moving on.

The first of the two girls was small, smaller than Bella, almost childishly so. She couldn't have weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. She was stunningly, shockingly beautiful, as they always were, with rosebud lips and coal-black bedroom hair.

Her eyes were golden, like the rest, but danced with humor. Bella felt something stir inside of her when she looked into those eyes, but all was forgotten when she turned to the second girl.

Bella liked to pride herself on her immunity to vampires. And yet this last left her speechless. For a moment, her heart felt like it had tripped, stuttered, before starting up again.

She was incapable of thinking about anything accept how much this vampire, this "monster" looked like an angel. She was the most beautiful creature to have ever walked the earth, Bella was convinced of it, and that was only the objective part of her. The other part was just staring, like a man dying in the desert at a mirage. She wanted to look away. It was impossible.

She was blonde, a bright shimmering blonde that fell in waves down past her shoulder blades. Golden eyes, as gold as her hair, maybe even more so. They were mottled with little specks of black. Her cheekbones were high, and aristocratic, and perfect, like the rest of her.

Even in vampires, Bella had always been able to detect that one little flaw, that one thing even baptism by fire couldn't erase. That human bit. Here, Bella couldn't see it, and it terrified her. Here she was, looking at perfection. She turned to Michael.

"You didn't tell me..." He didn't tell her there was an angel in the cafeteria. Before he could answer, a low growling noise came from the table. Probably from the big one. Bella sighed. This always happened. She didn't understand why everybody had to be so damn territorial all the time. With everyone and their mother here in the cafeteria, not to mention.

Michael shot up from his chair, a little too quickly, and did that twisting, buzzing thing with his mouth that meant he was speaking too fast for her. She didn't really mind. He would fill her in later. She turned back to the angel, before nearly falling out of her chair.

She thought she would have been looking somewhere else, maybe even growling at Michael like the big one, but she was not. She was staring at Bella, just as intensely as Bella was staring at her.

At that moment, Bella wouldn't have noticed if someone had set off a nuclear bomb in the science room. She wouldn't have minded if that idiot Mike had started trying to hit on her again, because she wouldn't have noticed him. It was as if everything else had lost focus, gone blurry, except for the blonde, like a polaroid picture where only one person is clear and the rest are fuzzy. Unimportant, because your eyes never leave that one person. That was what Bella was feeling. She thought she was going to have a heart attack. She had never felt this way before. She needed to know her name.

And then, when she thought she could take no more, the vampire's lips (so red, so full-God, she wanted to bite them), curved up into a smile. She was smiling at her. It was dazzling, like staring at the sun for too long. This was all too much. Bella looked away.


	3. Chapter 3

**True Love-Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer: Not mine! Not getting any money!**

**-So, here the story advances a little bit. Just laying the groundwork, basically. My vampires are slightly different, biologically, than SM's, but mostly the same. They still sparkle and stuff. :) Anyways, I love reading reviews, so those are always appreciated, but thanks so much for the favorites and story alerts as well! Means a ton.**

After Michael talked for a moment, the big vampire calmed down and eased back into his chair, and a few seconds later the bell rung. Bella noticed, out of the corner of her eye, the angel stumbling out of her seat, practically running with the short girl out the door.

"May I walk you to class?"

"Please," Bella whispered blinking, before sliding up against a locker as the other students hurried around them. This was all too much for her. Michael was a shred of normalcy, and she clung to him.

Strangely, the physical contact felt wrong, awkward. Hard. He had never felt like this before. She felt a dull ache, a tug in the pit of her stomach. She wondered if she was going to throw up. Nausea overwhelmed her. When had the lights gotten so bright? Who was that girl? What was her name? What was God _on_ when he created something so beautiful?

Just as Michaels' arms hesitantly wrapped around her, she pulled away. Immediately, he let go, but crouched down to her level as she slid onto the linoleum. The hallways were completely empty now.

"Isabella? Bella? Bella, are alright, darling?" Pet names only slipped through his lips when he was very concerned. Normally he kept them under lock and key, as he knew how they made Bella uncomfortable. In her current, slightly dazed state, Bella only found it endearing.

"I don't feel well, Michael...please, can we go home?"

"Of course." Very gently, he scooped her up into his arms, and walked until they reached the double doors, which he kicked open. He strode through the parking lot and carefully deposited Bella in the back seat of the car, where she could stretch out.

When he had touched her, she had felt the ache again. It was less strong than the last time, but still uncomfortable. Bella didn't understand it, didn't understand any of it. She had been fine not five minutes ago. She had been fine, until she saw that girl. That beautiful, beautiful girl. Michael had already turned on the ignition and was peeling out of the parking lot.

"Michael?"

"Yes, darli-Bella?"

"Do you know the names of the vampires in the coven?"

"I think I heard them earlier today, yes. The large one is called Emmet. The-" Bella interrupted.

"Do you know the name of the blonde?"

He paused. He sighed. He had seen the way Bella looked at her. He wasn't blind to how beautiful she was, though to him it was a cold, cruel, beauty, something to be appreciated at a distance rather then actively desired.

He had a rough idea of why Bella was so ill, so suddenly, though he didn't want to put it in words. He didn't want to tell Bella her name. But he loved Bella. So he did.

"Rosalie. Her name is Rosalie Hale."

_Rosalie_, Bella mouthed. _Rosalie, Rosalie, Rosalie. Rose. Rosie. Rosalie._ And then a wave of pain hit her suddenly in the stomach, and she groaned. Michael swore, loudly, and slammed his fist on the horn, before muttering something she couldn't catch under his breath, something about "that bitch-".

It was-uncharacteristic-of him, to say the least. They had pulled into the driveway by now. He opened the door, and she stumbled out and across the driveway, into the house, up the stairs, on her bed. She felt achy. She felt exhausted. Michael had walked up behind her, and paused at the doorframe.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Bella, but I thought you should know the details of my discussion with the big o-with _Emmet_ earlier.

I know you like to avoid conflict, so I suggested we meet later, at their house, rather then settle the matter of my being in Forks at the school. He suggested today. I agreed. I apologize for speaking for you, but I was worried things would escalate and I wouldn't be able to-to control myself. I had no idea you were going to be so ill so suddenly."

Bella was just barely holding on the consciousness, but she caught the gist of what he had said.

"No, it's fine. Go over there. Tell me if-if you see her." He didn't need to ask whom she was referring to.

"Okay. You have my number. You know I'll always pick up. If I don't-call Aro. I'll be back when I can." He closed the door very gently. Bella fell asleep at once. All she dreamed about was Rosalie.

BREAK

Rosalie was doubled over the toilet, though she knew she couldn't vomit. She was wracked with waves of nausea. She felt hot, then cold, then hot. It felt like, it was-withdrawal.

She had hunted, she had drained at least four moose and a grizzly bear. Perhaps five moose. It had had absolutely no effect. She leaned up against the wall of the bathroom. She almost felt flushed.

This would not beat her. It could not beat her. She was Rosalie Hale, ice queen. She was untouchable. She was unlovable, and she didn't love in return. It had taken her nearly a century to care, to really care, for her family.

She did not, in a matter of moments, just fall deeply, completely, beyond all point of return, in love with a human. A female human. Suddenly she turned away, and almost wanted to cry. Of course, she didn't. She was Rosalie Hale. She was beautiful. She was wanted. She was strong.

It was not as if, when she had first looked into the eyes of beauty, of pure and absolute beauty just three hours, twenty minutes, thirty three seconds ago (but hey? Who was counting? Certainly not Rosalie,) in that ugly, disgusting, _shithole_ of a cafeteria, full of sweaty, hormonal _assholes_ of teenagers, she had felt a phantom heart stutter and trip.

It was not as if she had felt her world go silent looking into those heavy lidded, long-lashed, big brown eyes. Rosalie had always thought red was ugly. Gold, passé. But brown? She wanted to drown in those eyes. In that human's eyes.

Suddenly, she heaved, as much with disgust at herself as with the pain, the tug, the pull towards that person she was trying so hard not to think about and had spent every single second thinking about since she had first seen her. She was Rosalie Hale, goddamnit! She should be able to control this. Control this longing that hurt so much-she had never felt this way.

Granted, her life, her afterlife, had never been a profoundly happy one, but she had had some good moments. She had a few treasured memories of laughter, of freedom. Of family. But she had never been so happy as she had been for those couple minutes in that cafeteria, staring into the eyes of some human, some female human.

She did not even know her name.

Her stomach flipped again and she had to stifle back a groan. She would not cry out. She would not give in to this-this _wanting_. She was Rosalie fucking Hale.

She didn't know the name of the most beautiful woman that she had ever seen, ever envisioned, ever imagined, even-she didn't know someone could be so perfect.

Rosalie Hale had never been truly vain, though others accused her of vanity constantly. She had simply been stating the facts when she said that she was the most beautiful person alive.

But now Rosalie knew she had been wrong, so very wrong. She had just looked into the face of perfection, of beauty. It had stared back at her three hours, twenty minutes, thirty four seconds ago in that shithole of a cafeteria.

And she loved her. She loved her, and it was frightening.

She could hear fragments of a conversation going on through the walls-they had soundproofed the bathroom to give a little privacy to that rare creature in the Cullen household, the human visitor-but she could catch the strains of it, nontheless. Alice's high soprano tended to carry.

"-was it this bad for you, Esme? Now I'm worried about what it will be like when I find mine-"

"No, dear, but then again, Carlisle wasn't human. Or, you know, a female. Or protected by-how did you describe him?"

"Scary. Really scary. He almost looked like-like the Volturi, mom. Rose's got her work cut out for her."

"Ah. Well-" Here Rosalie could hear Esme perk up slightly-"Is she pretty, at least?"

"She's beautiful." Alice's soprano went slightly husky. The way she said it made Rosalie want to rip her head off, for using that tone of voice about her, but all thought ceased when she heard the next question.

"What's her name?"

"I think-I heard that irritating girl Jessica mention-Bella. Isabella Swan."

Rosalie, who at this point had her ear pressed up against the bathroom wall (not that it helped, much) let out a soft sigh. _Bella. Isabella_. So soft. It rolled off her tongue, unexpectedly feminine. Delicate.

A wave of exhaustion swept over her. She wanted to sleep, to dream, to dream of Bella. But she couldn't, so she simply closed her eyes and thought of that face. That beautiful face. At least until the doorbell rang, and she stood up with a growl, sweeping off into her room.

She was going to really _fuck up_ whoever was at the door for interrupting her, but she still couldn't let them see her in this state. She was Rosalie Hale. She did not pine like some lovesick puppy.

Except, a slightly more reasonable part of her supposed, when she did.

Because the reasonable part of Rosalie knew that she wasn't on the brink of tears from the pain. She was Rosalie Hale, she was strong, and no stupid ache could be worse than what she endured in an alley in Rochester in 1933. She was on the brink of tears because she had smiled at Bella, and Bella had not smiled back. She had looked away.

What did that mean for Rosalie?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Hey Guys! Sorry for the wait. This isn't my best, but...**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

After she had composed herself, Rosalie walked down the stairs. Her family was gathered in the living room, along with that vampire who had been with Bella.

She had not payed much attention to him, except for a passing irritation that he had been obstructing her view. She had not known he was coming over to the house. Perhaps Emmett had mentioned it during lunch, when she had been otherwise preoccupied.

She looked the visitor over, for a moment, before taking a seat on the couch, hands folded, back straight, ready to spring. He was attractive, she gave him that. All pouty lips and messy curls. But there was something in his eyes that left her tense, frightened. He gave off the air of a predator.

Rosalie knew that everyone in the room was fighting to remain civil, except perhaps Carlisle, who was a freak of nature and could remain civil while hanging upside down in a pool of blood. Jasper wasn't even _in_ the room.

He smelled of danger, primarily. Like rusty razors. But there was something else, something clinging to him.

Rosalie sniffed, and stiffened. She shuddered. Shamefully, she had to stifle a moan.

It was flowers, and fruit, and honey and something else, something musky and heady, mixed together and calling out to her. She wanted to envelop herself in that scent. She didn't even care how dangerous he smelled anymore, because Bella's scent was all over him and she just wanted to roll around i-she ran a hand through her hair, crossed her legs.

Edward had turned to look at her, brows knit. Suddenly Rosalie wasn't happy, and slightly, inexplicably horny, she was just angry. He was invading her privacy, again. There was very little that Rosalie Hale valued more than her privacy.

_Get out of my head, Edward._

He frowned, and she wanted to throw him through a window. Tensions were already high with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous in the living room, he should know not to push it. Especially with her. The others might put up with this shit, but she did not.

_Rosalie, I understand that you're upset. But your thoughts, they-you need to talk with Carlisle, Rosalie. You're hurting._

She very nearly pushed him out the window, then. But she did not. She was Rosalie Hale. She kept her cool.

_We will discuss this later, Edward. Get out of my head before I make you._

He looked hurt, and then like he was about to growl, but a noise made them both look up. The rest of the family had been staring at them. The visitor too, looking contemplative. Esme had cleared her throat.

For the second time in five minutes, Rosalie crossed her legs, and ran a hand through her hair, and Edward scowled.

"It's a pleasure to meet you-Michael? I believe that was the name my son mentioned. We don't get many other vampires out here that share our...dietary habits," Carlisle said, smiling, and reached out a hand. Michael shook it.

Rosalie looked up, surprised. She hadn't even noticed the golden eyes. Isabella Swan was not even in the same house, and yet she still managed to drive her to distraction. Rosalie wanted to break something.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Cullen."

"Ah, it was very rude of me. Here is my family. My wife, Esme. My sons, Edward, Emmett, and Jasper. And here are Alice," Alice bounced in the armchair, waving excitedly, "and Rosalie." Michael looked confused.

"Your-family?"

"A coven, if you prefer. We are very close."

"Ah." He nodded.

"Please," Esme chimed in, "Sit down!"

"I'd like to stand, if that is quite alright." He paused. "The house is lovely." Esme looked momentarily deflated when he refused to sit, but swelled up again at the compliment.

"Why, thank you!"

"I hope you shan't think me too forward if I dispense with formalities. I am a vampire. I am on your-territory, if you will. I mean you no harm, unless you hurt Isabella Swan."

Rosalie's head snapped up again, getting an idea and not liking it at all. He protected her. He smelled like her-oh no. Oh God no. If Rosalie had been angry before, now she was furious. She would bite him and chop him up into little pieces-

_Rosalie._

Edward had come to sit next to her, and had placed a hand over her knee, which he squeezed. She bit her lip. She would hear him out. Emmett broke the silence.

"Yeah? What if we did?" He said, laughing. He didn't really mean it, and Rosalie knew that. She kept on telling herself it while she resisted the urge to jump him. The rage had seemed to come out of nowhere. If Jasper was in the house she would have blamed it on him.

Just the thought of someone hurting Bella made venom trickle down her throat and her stomach lurch. She couldn't understand it, and it made her almost angry at this girl for a second, this stupid girl that she could snap in half with a pinky finger.

She hadn't even said one word to her, and yet she had turned Rosalie's world upside down.

Michael had shoved his hands into his pockets, pretending to think.

"Then I'd kill you, and the Volturi would help me. Unless-" he paused, "Unless Bella asked me not to."

"I've been to their court quite a few times. I have never seen you." Carlisle said.

"For a long time, anonymity was useful in my...line of work. In fact, it was absolutely essential until Aro made me nanny of a seven year old girl. It does not have quite the same cachet, and the hours are terrible, but I find I enjoy it far more than my previous profession."

"And what, if I may ask, was that?" Michael grinned, and the venom on his canines glistened.

"Assassination." Esme gasped, placing a hand over her mouth.

"I know. Such a dirty word, isn't it?" She looked even more scandalized, if that were possible. Michael rubbed the back of his head. "That was a joke, Ms. Cullen. I apologize. Bella tells me sometimes I have a bad ear for humor..."

"So you don't kill people?"

"No, that bit was true, if you change it to past tense. I don't kill people, but I did. Very much so." He looked down. "Bella has been-a calming influence on me. I may even be developing morals." He chuckled. Rosalie wanted to throttle him. Her fingernails dug into the granite thigh just below her skirt.

"Is Bella completely human, Michael?" Alice had spoken, having spent the last few minutes in a stupor.

Probably a vision, Rosalie thought. She would ask Alice about it later. Why did she think Bella was not human? Was there something about her Rosalie had missed?

For a moment, a chill ran through her. Was Bella one of those-like those _dogs_ on the reservation? But she dismissed the thought as idiotic as soon as it arrived. No whining mutt could be so beautiful. No dog would smell like _that_-she shook her head.

She wished Michael would move further away, even as she wanted him and that lingering scent closer. It almost left her incapable of coherent thought. She couldn't even imagine how powerful it was firsthand. She would have to hunt once this vampire left.

_Rosalie..._And he was in her head again. Her fingers, which had moved to coffee table, flexed, and the wood splintered. Esme shot her a look. She shrugged.

_Edward, I swear to God, I-_her thought was interrupted by Michael's answer. He had remained silent for a surprisingly long time.

"Yes. Yes, she is human. I would think that much would be obvious. Why?" Alice looked away.

"Oh, no reason, just wondering." He frowned, but didn't press the matter, instead turning towards Carlisle and bowing slightly.

"Thank you all very much for inviting me into your home. If there are no further matters to discuss, I think I shall take my leave now. It has been a pleasure." Esme, apparently slightly recovered, must have felt bound as a good housewife to reply.

"Oh, yes. Any time. Isabella is very much welcome, too," she murmured. Rosalie blinked, slowly, at the thought of Bella in her house. In her room. She would have to clean her room. Of course, it was already spotless, but...perhaps there were some places she had missed.

"That's very kind of you," Michael said. "I will certainly let her know."

He nodded to all the vampires, though he seemed almost pained when looking at Rosalie, and left the house, closing the door gently behind him. The family sat silent in the parlor until the sound of his engine started up and faded away as he left the driveway. Carlisle was the first to speak.

"Well, that was...eventful."

"Understatement of the century," Emmet rumbled, still looking slightly put out, perhaps because his joke about harming Bella was met with the threat of murder at the hands of evil vampire lords. Rosalie didn't care. It was his fault, for saying something so idiotic.

"Edward, did you get anything from him?" Carlisle asked. Edward grimaced.

"Little. His thoughts are so organized, there's...not much to grasp on to. I'm sure once he realizes what I am, there'll be even less. It's as if he shields himself as a matter of principle. But, his head..." Edward's eyes glazed over for a second.

"It's terrifying, Carlisle. It's a horrible place to be. He's not a sadist, it's not like _Jane's_, thank God, but...he's very old. I got that much. Older than you, even. And he's killed so many people. So many. He wasn't joking, when he said that thing about killing for the Volturi.

And so...he keeps his thoughts blank, his mind very neat, but things...things slip through. The only happiness I got from him during the entire time he was here was when he thought about Isabella Swan. She must have a truly beautiful mind, because even his thoughts of her were brilliant."

"Wait-" Rosalie looked up. "You can't read it? Her mind?" Edward shook his head.

"No, I was planning to tell you all that, before he arrived. I can't get anything from her. It's as if she's not there. I assume Alice is experiencing similar difficulties seeing her in her visions, and that's why she asked that question about her being a human-"

"I can't sense her either." Jasper had returned, throwing open the door, hair plastered to his forehead from the rain outside. His eyes were bright gold. He'd obviously been hunting.

"Good of you to join us," Rosalie said.

"Would you rather I'd have attacked our visitor?"

"You could have controlled yourself, like the rest of us!"

"Well, pardon me if I don't have the self control of an ice cube!" Rosalie snarled, and stood up. People were always saying shit like that. She was not a fucking hunk of ice.

"Enough!" Esme said. "Sit down, both of you, and stop acting like preschoolers. Alice, is that true?" Alice nodded, looking ashamed.

"No, I can't see her at all. It's as if she has no future."

"Well, obviously she isn't a dead, emotionless creature with no thoughts to speak of. Or is she?" Emmett said, before laughing. Rosalie was not laughing. She was shaking.

"You. Will. Stop. Making jokes about her! You stupid, self centered-" Jasper squinted and she felt calm flood over her as she reluctantly surrendered, sinking back into the couch with a warning growl. Edward looked over.

_Rosalie, are you feeling well? You've been-uncharacteristically emotional today. Well, since lunch._

_Edward, since you are in my head I am fairly sure you are aware that I am not feeling well. Don't patronize me._

"I'm going for a drive. Do continue," Rosalie announced, before storming up and out the door. She accidentally tore it out of the doorhinge on the way out, but didn't worry too much. Esme would take care of it.

She really wasn't feeling well, even worse than before Michael had come to visit, and the inexplicable mood swings weren't helping. She felt...achy. She hadn't known that vampires could feel achy.

She strode across the driveway, heels clicking against the gravel, and into the garage.

Pulling out of the driveway in her car, she heard the faint buzz of her family and idled the car for a second, cocking her head. She thought she had heard her name. She only caught one word, and it left her livid.

She slammed on the brakes, a bit harder than she probably should have, and peeled out of the driveway.


	5. Chapter 5

**True Love-Chapter 5**

**Disclaimer: Not mine!**

**-Wow, have I been out of the loop for a long time. For that, I'm incredibly sorry. I know how it feels when an author abandons a story you've been reading, and I feel awful I've done that to you guys. I've got no excuse except for my procrastination and schoolwork, so feel free to castigate me at your pleasure. Though my updates may be sporadic, I'll do my best to finish this story. If you can summon up the goodwill to write a review, I would be enormously grateful.**

Bella sat, impassive, through English class, head in her hands. She hadn't slept much, if at all, and all she could dream about was Rosalie. She didn't understand. She'd had crushes before, on cute boys with biceps and surfer hair and literary inclinations. She had been with a boy, and that was fine.

She had been with Natasha, when she and Michael were in Moscow, and that was fun. She'd been with Juan in Madrid, and that was also fun, though the diamond skin had left her with a couple bruises.

None of these flings held a candle to the obsession she was nurturing at the moment. She always thought the phrase "Love hurts" was metaphorical. Apparently not. As she smiled at her stupid little joke, the teacher droned on.

Michael would have helped, would have calmed her down (if only slightly), but he was off sucking the blood out of something. The meeting last night had left him aggressive.

She'd tried to ask him what it was about, and he'd mumbled something about saying too much, and that Esme (the mother, apparently) had invited her over.

At this, her heart clenched. She wondered what Rosalie's room looked like. She wondered what her bed looked like. She wondered what her body-

"Bella? Bella, are you ok?" She looked up, blearily. Angela had placed a hand on her shoulder. "You've been really weird this morning. I mean, I know he's a dick, but I think you might've sent Mike to the hospital." She blinked. Maybe she shouldn't have punched Mike so hard that morning.

"Really?" She asked, trying not to sound happy. "I mean, he did try to ask me out in the girl's bathroom, Angela." She sighed.

"I guess you have a point."

"I'm sorry, I'm just really not feeling well, I-" She stopped, mid-sentence. She'd felt something change in the air. Her heart was beating faster, and she could feel the blood rushing into my cheeks. She grabbed the desk to steady myself.

"Bella?" She could hear Angela talking, but paid no attention. She looked up, glancing around the room.

And there she was. Standing in the doorway, blond hair shimmering in the sun coming in from the windows. There was a collective gasp as she strode into the English classroom, taking an empty seat near the back. Apparently, Bella wasn't the only one affected by Rosalie. As she walked she resolutely avoided Bella's attempts to catch her eye, looking past her as if she didn't exist. She felt a stab of pain. She closed my eyes, trying to collect myself, listening to her heels click on the linoleum, the screech of her seat against the floor as she scooted in.

"Ms. Cullen, good of you to join us," Drawled Mr. Scarberry, the English teacher. It was an open secret around the school that he only had the job due to his teamster connections, and it showed. He labored under the impression Charles Dickens was a porn star, and that the Bronte Sisters were a circus act. Rosalie, who had been glaring at the floor, looked up. She was, Bella noticed, even more beautiful when she was angry. She worried, though. Bella hoped she was in control of herself, though her eyes were still golden.

"Hale." She had never heard Rosalie speak before. She sounded like an angel.

"What?"

"Hale. My last name is Hale. Use it." Mr. Scarberry looked like he was about to reply, but Rosalie seemed so ferocious that he just swallowed and looked away.

"Very well. Now that Ms., uh, Hale has finally joined us, we can start class. We're starting a partnered project on the social repercussions of the antebellum period…" Bella tuned him out. Her first instinct was to turn to Rosalie. For some reason, it distressed her to see her upset. But if Rosalie wouldn't even give her the common courtesy of a look, well, then she wouldn't spend any more time thinking about her. Instead, she faced Angela. It was surprisingly difficult. Bella needed to talk with Michael about this, she decided. Surely there was some kind of solution to this emotional upheaval.

"So, what's up with you and Eric?" Angela blushed, and started to talk about how they had shared a kiss after his victory at the county chess tournament, and her worry that Jessica was trying to steal him from her. Bella tried to reassure her as best as she could. She realized Mr. Scarberry was rattling off a list of names.

"Mary-Ann and Joe. Now Joe, try not to set the textbook on fire like you did on the Quixote project. Dan and Julia. Angela and Jessica." Angela scowled as Jessica waved at her, beaming. Bella gave her shoulder what she hoped was a comforting squeeze. "Don't worry, Angela. You're way too pretty for Eric to ever leave you." And it was true. Tall, blonde, Angela was pretty, almost like Rosalie. Bella shook her head. This was getting out of hand.

"Margaret and Kayla. Tom and Joseph. Isabella and Rosalie. By the way, you two work in the library. That's enough pairs in the classroom." Bella felt both thrilled and frightened. If possible, her heart started to beat even faster. Rosalie rose, gracefully, as she practically tripped over her chair.

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Rosalie tense, as if to catch her, but it was over in the blink of an eye and soon she and Rosalie were walking out of the classroom and down the hallway, alone, together, and Bella felt the ever-present aching so strongly in her chest she thought she might faint. Rosalie was wearing a sundress, and Bella, staring at the floor as they walked towards the library, could see her long, pale legs. She could feel Rosalie's eyes on her. She cleared her throat.

"Nice to meet you, Rosalie. My name is, uh, my name is Isabella. But I prefer Bella." She paused, surprised at her own boldness. "Can I call you Rose?" Rosalie stopped, and looked at her. She was taller, even more so in heels. Bella was struck again by how extraordinarily beautiful she was. It didn't seem fair that people like Rosalie existed.

Her hand reached out, as if she were about to brush a strand of hair away from Bella's face, but then she stopped, the manicured fingernails hanging in the air for a second before she let them fall. Bella wanted to lean into the hand, but resisted. She didn't want Rosalie to think she was some kind of stalker. Rosalie looked conflicted. "I mean, that was a stupid question. I'll just call you Rosalie, I-"

Rosalie shook her head. "No. Please. I like it." It seemed like they were both having problems making coherent sentences. Bella could smell her. She smelled like strawberries….she leaned forward, and Rosalie jumped back, almost pressed up against a locker. In another situation she might have found it funny, the mighty vampire so seemingly afraid, of her. As it was she found it heartbreaking.

Rosalie's chest had gone still. Her eyes had gone completely black. Seeing this, Bella started, and took a couple steps backward herself.

"I'm so sorry," She said. "I must be making this so hard on you. I'm sorry, I can go." Rosalie had closed her eyes, a pained statue.

"No, I need to-I, I have to go. Forgive me." She hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to stay. Bella hoped she wanted to stay. But then a blur, and she was gone. The aching had quieted down somewhat, but now with Rosalie's absence it returned in full force. Bella slid down against a locker and cried.

BREAK

Rosalie ran like hell into the woods. She launched herself onto the nearest thing with a heartbeat, relinquishing herself to the monster inside of her. She hated this part of herself, loathed the inhumanity of it. Every time she fed she felt a burst of self-loathing. But now, she welcomed the mindlessness of the jugular. She craved it, because right now all she could think about was Bella.

It wasn't fair. She had met this sweet and beautiful and funny girl, so perfect in every way that Rosalie knew, even if she was human, even if it was the 1920's and she was married to Royce King, she would still have fallen hopelessly in love with Bella. But she wasn't human, and that made everything so much harder.

On one hand, she craved Bella, craved her in a way she never could when she was human. She craved her body, her presence. She'd seen the way Carlisle and Esme were, even after centuries. She didn't think they'd ever spent more than a night away from each other, and Carlisle had told her that they had "mellowed".

This terrified her, because she was Rosalie Hale. She was in control. She didn't need anything. Except, apparently Bella. And what would happen if Bella died? What would happen if Bella broke her heart? It would be game over for Rosalie.

The other problem was that this girl, the only thing she wanted or needed on this earth, smelled good. She smelled very good, and Rosalie couldn't resist it.

Simply sitting in the classroom, her scent dulled by that of so many others, was a challenge. She had tried to avoid eye contact, act as if Bella was not there at all, but that proved impossible. And when they were alone in the hallway….Rosalie could barely think. And those thoughts that did manage to come to fruition were not virginal. All she wanted to do was push Bella up against a locker and ravage her and never let her go. And, perhaps, drink her blood.

She smelled like fresh rain and musk and flowers and sunny mornings. It was intoxicating. Rosalie could hear Bella's blood. It pulsed through her like a wet, ambrosiac, river. She looked down.

A dear, mauled and drained and still warm, sat beneath her. Her sundress was speckled with blood. Bits of it clung in her hair. She sighed, wiping her mouth and beginning to strip. Naked, she walked into the river next to the deer, dipping her hair in the water. Normally, she was not this messy, but she'd been otherwise occupied. She wondered what Bella would look like, naked, in the river. It was difficult to get the thought out of her mind.

She smiled at the remembrance of them in the hallway, before she'd acted like a coward who couldn't control herself and fled. No one had called her Rose since 1925. She'd forbidden it. But when Bella called her Rose, she couldn't find the words to refuse. To be perfectly honest, she liked it.

"I need to talk to you." Rosalie screamed first, and then growled, teeth bared. A granite hand covered her mouth. She saw it was Michael's. She had been so lost in thought about Bella she hadn't noticed his approach. He was hanging upside down from an overhanging tree branch like a monkey. She stood, stock still and naked in the middle of the river, trembling with rage.

"Take your hand off my mouth and get. Away. From me," she whispered, feeling her fangs lengthen, the venom burning as it trickled down her throat. She was trembling. She was about to cover herself, but then thought against it. The bastard should see what he came looking for.

"If I take away my hand, will you talk with me?"

"I'm getting very upset."

"I just talked to Bella. You made her cry." Reflexively, Rosalie put a hand to her chest, blinking. She didn't want Bella to cry. "You feel that? That pain when I tell you that Bella is crying because you were an insensitive brat who couldn't control herself? I can tell you why you feel that way." She stood there, feeling the venom trickle away.

"Fine. Let me put my dress on." She looked up, and saw he had put his other hand over his eyes for the entire conversation. She was surprised. Typically men, even vampires, were dying to see her naked.

"Thank you." A rustle, and Michael was gone. Rosalie sighed. It had been a long day.


	6. Chapter 6

**True Love-Chapter 5**

**Disclaimer: (As always) Not mine. **

**-I feel like this was a little rushed. I'm still not sure entirely where the plot is heading, but bear with me!**

"I don't like you very much."

"I don't like you very much either, actually."

"You don't deserve her."

"Says the one accosting me naked in a river."

"It wasn't about that and you know it. But did it strike a nerve? That I wasn't there to worship at the altar of Rosalie, that your curves and hair and sneer of cold command don't render me insensate like those pimply high school boys? Does that hurt, Rosalie?"

She looked up at him, angry, shaking out her hair as it fell in flaxen, wet sheets down her back. They were sitting high on a boulder in the middle of the river, glittering like ice sculptures in the sun.

The forest stretched out, still, around them. It was eerily silent. All the animals in the area had fled, apparently.

"Nothing you say can bother me," she murmured, wriggling her drying toes in the heat.

"You're still a child, Rosalie Hale. You don't know what love is. I have made sure that Bella had a full life, a human life, a happy life, and now you're going to take that away from her. How does that make you feel?"

He took a pebble next to him, crushing it into powder with his hands. Rosalie couldn't stand much more of this. She didn't come here to be lectured about her faults by this vampire that smelled of Bella and whom Bella preferred to her. She came because she thought he could explain what she was going through, rescue her from this dark morass of urgency and confusion and, above all else, love.

She growled and clenched her fists. The stone beneath her hands cracked and split in two.

"See? You can't control yourself. You would hurt her."

"I could never hurt her." She said it with conviction, and she knew it to be true. If Bella said jump, well, then, Rosalie would just ask how high. She could never cause her pain.

Michael, who had previously been tracing patterns into the rock with his nail, looked up. His eyes were black, and Rosalie flinched. Obviously he was not aroused, so he must have been very, very, angry. But when he spoke it was full of pain.

"Just leave us alone. Please." Just the thought of it made Rosalie cringe.

"You know I can't do that." He sighed, and looked away, tossing the ashes of the pebble into the dark river. "And, who are you to say what's good for Bella, anyways? You used to kill people for a living." He blinked.

"You live in a glass house, Rosalie. Don't throw stones." She looked up at him, momentarily pale. "I have to keep tabs on these sorts of incidents, you know. When was that? 1933? The wedding dress was a nice touch, I admit. Added a touch of the theatrical to it all."

Rosalie snarled. She felt ill to her stomach, and she could almost hear her self control snapping. Her temples had begun to throb. She wished that Bella were there. She should never have run away. She could've handled it.

"If you have any shred of respect left in you for my dignity as a lady, please don't talk about my husband." She was feeling dizzy. His eyes widened, slightly, slowing growing more golden.

"I apologize. That was crude." A yellow tiger butterfly, the first living thing Rosalie had seen in an hour, landed on his pinky. He held his hand absolutely still, staring at it. "I am obviously trying to hold on to something not mine to possess. Marcus saw our tie, she does not love me. The fact of the matter is, when you have been alive for centuries and this cherubic seven year old…illuminates your life, it can be difficult to let go."

Rosalie was blinking, rapidly. She knew that what Michael was saying was important. She knew that she should be listening. But the aching, the tugging in her stomach had gotten worse, and her phantom heart had begun to flutter. Her ears were ringing.

She put a hand up against the boulder to steady herself, but it wasn't enough. Rosalie said something she hadn't had cause to say in eighty years.

"I do believe I'm going to faint." The last thing she felt before passing out were granite hands reaching out to catch her. It was a nice gesture, she thought, but rather ineffective since the boulder was just as hard. She hoped Bella wasn't feeling as bad as she was at the moment.

BREAK

"I'm sorry, Angela, I just can't see the similarities between Eric and Johnny Depp," Muttered Bella, curled up on the couch, halfheartedly sipping some chicken soup.

So wracked with stomach pain she felt as if a fully formed child could spring out of her womb at any minute, and heartbroken by Rosalie's desertion, she had wandered in and out of the last few periods in a daze.

When she returned to the house she found Michael (still) missing, which was a surprise. However, he had taken the liberty of putting a Tupperware full of chicken soup in the fridge. The note on top read, in the Edwardian script she noticed most vampires wrote in and she could never get used to:

_I need to talk to you. _

Below that, there was a smiley face. But the chicken soup, good as it was, didn't make for great company, so Bella had rung Angela up, saying she was sick and begging her to bring a hot water bottle, chick flicks, and the strongest pain medication she could find.

It was a little forward, Bella knew, but Angela was already shaping out to be a good friend, and she was frightened to be alone with her pain and the ever-present thoughts of Rosalie.

Still, she could do with a little less talk about how proficient a lover Eric was. Apparently Angela, emboldened by Jessica taking a grab for her man, had lured him into a janitor's closet, where they rounded second base before seventh period. Idly, Bella wondered what kissing Rosalie would be like in a broom closet.

"He's got abs, too, Bella! I mean, you can't really see them, but they're there, just hidden like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. And that whole thing about Asian guys? Totally not true, just to let you know."

They were watching some movie about a man trying to propose to his bitchy girlfriend in a hundred different ways, but neither was paying much attention. Bella sneezed. She'd worn out two boxes of tissues in forty-five minutes.

"Ang?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you know about the-" Bella winced, overtaken by another cramp, "the Cullens?"

Angela blinked, adjusting her glasses as they slid down her nose.

"Well, not a lot. I mean, they're fairly new to the area too, they can't have been around for more than a couple years. The dad, Carlisle Cullen, works at the hospital or something. I mean, my cousin went there when she broke her arm and said he seemed really nice. Then again, he is very attractive, so…." Bella was momentarily taken aback. How did he manage to work at a hospital?

"I think the mom, Esme, is an interior designer or something. All the kids are adopted. They mostly keep to themselves at school, though, I mean, at the beginning, they were getting asked out pretty much every minute. It's not like they encouraged it, it's just that they all look like they stepped out of a Ralph Lauren catalog. Especially Rosalie. I mean, I think every guy in the school tried to get into her pants." Said Angela.

At this, Bella felt incredibly, unreasonably, jealous. She crumpled up the empty tissue box in her hands.

"What did she do?"

"I mean, it was pretty funny to watch. The guys can't even talk to her anyways, they're like a bunch of cows, and she just glared at them like she'd just scraped something off her shoe. Most of couldn't even talk, they just stood there." Angela laughed, and Bella felt a pang of relief.

"What do you think about her? Rosalie?" Angela looked at her, surprised, but eventually spoke.

"I don't really have an opinion about her. She seems to be…above everything. I mean, I doubt she even knows I exist. That bothers some of the other girls, and I've heard them call her a bitch and stuff, but it doesn't really bother me. That's just how she is, I expect." Bella sat up.

"Who called her a bitch?"

"Uh…Jessica and Lauren, mostly. Bella, are you okay? You look really angry."

"Those two are the real bitches, I-"

Suddenly Bella stopped, and felt a bolt of pain shoot through her heart. She collapsed back into the cushion.

At that moment, she knew something had happened to Rosalie. She didn't know what and she didn't know why, but she knew Rosalie was in danger, and it made something in her chest cry out in pain. And she knew she had to go and find Rosalie, Rosalie who she'd "known" for all of two days, Rosalie who'd she'd shared exactly one conversation and two meaningful looks with, because Rosalie had somehow become very important to her.

Bella argued with a lot of things. She argued with Michael. She argued with Aro. She argued with her body when it couldn't keep up. But Bella always, always, trusted her heart.

"Ang?" She asked, weakly. "Ang? I think you need to go." Angela looked bewildered.

"What? But your sick, and, and, the movies not even over, and-"

"Angela, I feel a storm is coming, sure as my name is Bella Swan. I can feel it in my bones. Now I love you, but I don't want you staying you staying the night, so get your butt out to that car and I'll text you later." And, in a tremendous show of willpower, Bella stood up from the couch, grabbing Angela's bag and pushing her out the door and into the driveway.

Whatever happened next, her friend didn't need to be involved, and already everything in her was screaming to go find Rosalie. Before Angela pulled out in her beat up Honda Civic, she rolled down the window.

"Wait…Swan? Isabella Swan? As in Charlie Swan? And Renee Swan, the…"

"Goodnight, Angela," Bella said, almost jogging back to the house, mentally cursing herself. What an idiot she had been!

Here in the town, they were Isabella and Michael McCarthy, emancipated siblings from the next city over. She just hoped Angela wouldn't put two and two together, because the alternative was disaster.

Still upset, Bella began to almost mechanically pull on her galoshes and raincoat, shoving her phone into her pocket. She hadn't been lying when she thought a storm was coming. Already, it had begun to pour, the wind whipping the trees out of shape, the sun in retreat behind clouds.

She wasn't even sure what she was doing, exactly, wracked with nausea and practically every other symptom imaginable, but she was going to find Rosalie, and God help anyone who got in her way. Bella marched to the door, yanked it open, and promptly screamed and dropped her umbrella on her foot.

There, lying slack in Michael's arms on her doorstep, a blonde sleeping beauty, lay Rosalie, drenched. Her eyelids were closed and she was mumbling, delirious. Behind her, equally drenched, was the massive, hunched figure of Emmett, tiny Alice bravely trying to smile at her (she had, Bella thought, a truly lovely smile), Edward, looking pained, Jasper, and, bringing up the rear, Esme. Carlisle stood, in the front, next to Michael.

"Bella." Said Michael, looking indescribably sad, "May we come in?"


End file.
